"Yes; I mean tempting to crime."
"How strangely you speak!"
"But truly," she replied, sadly.
"I do not understand——"
"I can tell you a horrible episode," she began, impetuously; "but no, 'tis better forgotten—forgotten, if possible, than to recollect it now, in all its sad details," she added, after a pause.
"Why?"
"You have unbosomed yourself to me, and have told to me your only sorrow; why should I conceal mine? or why be less communicative to you? Well, I shall tell you why I—for the sake of others, rather than even for my own soul's welfare—dedicated myself to God and the order of charity. By jealousy, and the revenge it inspired, I lost a brother whom I idolized, and two friends whom I loved dearly; and, monsieur, it all happened thus."
After a short pause, with her long dark lashes cast down, and her little white hands folded on her knees, she told me the following story:—"My father, M. Marie Anatole Chaverondier, resided in a little antique château among the mountains of Beaujolais, where we had a property which, though small, is fertile, and in some places is covered with fine old wood. Our château is very ancient, for it had anciently been a hunting-seat of the illustrious family of Beaujeu, who gave their name to all that district; and thus we have rooms that many a time were honoured by the presence of the Great Constable and the Dukes of Bourbon.
"I can, in fancy, see that dear old château now, with its round turrets, its gilded vanes, and white façade, rising above the green woodlands, with the blue Saône flowing in front under an ancient bridge, the central arch of which had been blown up in the wars of the old revolution, but was now partly repaired by logs of oak, that were half-hidden by luxuriant ivy, and beautiful red and white roses. Ah!" she exclaimed, while her splendid eyes became suffused with tears, "shall I ever again see the old Château de Chaverondier?
"My mother was dead. My father—a gentleman of the ancien régime, a strict legitimist, or adherent of the old monarchy, and a worshipper in secret of Henri V.—resided there in seclusion with his family, which consisted of myself, my brother Claude, and three or four servants; and, save our tutor, who was the old curé of the neighbouring village, or monsieur le maire of Beaujeu, we had few or no visitors; and our time glided away amid quiet pleasures, but with no sorrow, till Claude, a tall and handsome youth, left us for the military school of St. Cyr.